Questionable Sanity

My mind’s blank but I can’t complain,
it’s certainly better than being insane.
But if I was, how would I know?
Would I feel high or way down low?
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Would I be happy or angry or sad?
Would I be good or be really bad?
Could I still write? Could it be read?
Would I know if I were alive or dead?
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Would I be recognized by friends I meet?
Would I wander aimlessly up and down the street?
Would there be a reason for the questions I ask?
Could I complete a minimal task?
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Would I care or would I hide in shame?
Or would my life be pretty much the same?
I don’t have the answers, at least not today.
But if I’m asking, I’m probably OK.

~*~
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Could

This poem today could be my last.
Seems all my worries now are past.
Grief all-around still gets me down.
But a man in love can’t wear a frown.
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This world’s not always a happy place.
Misery’s seen on many a face.
I’ve seen death and felt the pain.
Years have passed to find I’m sane.
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My feelings spewed on sheets galore.
Forever I searched for an exit door.
Though light trickled through cracks unseen,
time now as bright as it’s ever been.
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In a warm embrace I now awake.
If given a wish I’d none to make.
But a dream remains of peace on earth.
So write I must for what it’s worth.

~*~
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